Portrait of the Artist in a Bad Mood
I would really like to nail someone with a foil this evening. Preferably several someones. Unfortunately, that gratification must await a new pair of contact lenses. (It will probably also await my recovering enough flexibility to lay out properly in a lunge). I can't even go out and pound pavement. It is - excuse my Yorkshire - pissing it down out there. Drains blocked by leaves, streetlights too dim to see the depth of the puddles. I went ankle deep in one on the way home. All the joys of the West coast monsoon season. I can now reassure my family that I have not succumbed to precipitatus negatus Victoriansis (one of the conditions that should have made it into the Canadian Diagnositic and Nonstatistical Manual of Mental Disorders - compiled by the CMAJ editors last Christmas (PDF only)) symptom, "It hasn't rained all month." In November. I was finally offered an interview for a regulatory job I had applied to in - May. Better pay, better benefits, the possibility of flexitime. Not the right psychological moment when I've battered through a day on a task that should have taken me three hours and still did not get it finished (Sinclair's Law of the Inertia of Messes: If it was a mess before, it will still be a mess, all promises to the contrary notwithstanding) and am facing The Big Meeting on timelines tomorrow. And I'm trying to write an article for Vision on the joys of writing-taken-in-adultery. (Chekov's famous quote, "Literature is my mistress, medicine my wife.") Hey ho, this will pass. I should either go and wash dishes (or put them on the balcony to rinse off or - hey - drop them OFF the balcony into the puddles), finish shooting down that 'plane, or write a scene to bounce off Lynda's beginning of the next book, in which Alidva puts in motion her plan to acquire an empire and dynasty. I could always edit. This is a very, very good editing mood. Grr!
posted by Anonymous at 20:46   comment? e-mail lynda@okalrel.org 0 comments